


Any Other Drabble 2: Electric Boogaloo

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [31]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: More drabbles set in the 'by any other name' verse





	1. Send in the Clown

**Author's Note:**

> Since drabbles are set in a certain time frame within the series, I can't just keep posting them in the same place. So here we are. ^_^

* * *

The most amusing part of it was that it had been Stretch’s idea to begin with. His love for old, cheesy movies was one Edge endured as much as he could, and his suggestion to invite Antwan and Jeff over for a movie night of more a recent film had been met with agreement all the way around. 

A better choice might have been for Edge to investigate the movie more thoroughly, but ‘It’ hadn’t seemed particularly worrisome. It had a child with a balloon on the cover, how terrifying could it possibly be?

That question had been answered with brutal swiftness. Edge glanced over at the sofa where Stretch and Jeff were sitting together, one with shrunken eye lights and the other with too-wide eyes, all but clinging to each other as they stared at the television screen. 

It was a lesson on the importance of Googling, really. 

Edge had seen enough horrors in his life that the one on the television screen was hardly of interest, although perhaps it would help Stretch come to an agreement with him on the evilness of clowns. Point of fact, the movie was dull in comparison to covertly observing Stretch and Jeff watching it. At any given moment one of them would bury their faces into each other’s shoulders, stifled yelps and squeaks of fear. 

It was absolutely shameful how precious Edge was finding it.

He caught Antwan’s gaze at one point and the human rolled his eyes, siding with Edge’s unimpressed review of the night’s entertainment. At least the televised version because he proved yet again there was a reason that he and Edge were friends since he appeared equally amused by their lover’s antics. By the time the credits rolled, Stretch was nearly on Jeff’s lap and the human was too caught up in his own terror to protest. 

"why do people watch this crap?" Stretch muttered furiously, finally drawing back to his side of the sofa. His hands were shaking as he lit a cigarette, ignoring the full round of glares he received for it. 

“You chose the movie,” Edge pointed out and for his trouble, Stretch gave him a baleful glare, exhaling smoke in his direction. Edge only looked back peaceably; after this, the odds of Stretch attempting to sleep alone on the sofa were infinitesimal, no matter how irritated he was. He was far more likely to be trying to get close enough to practically crawl into Edge’s ribcage. Not that Edge ever liked to see fear on his husband’s face, but he would be a liar if he said he didn’t appreciate the side effects. 

“Next time, let’s stick to a comedy,” Jeff huffed. He let Stretch get in another faux lungful of smoke and then plucked his cigarette away, tamping it into an ashtray. “Hello, rude.”

“yeah, you are,” Stretch shoved him, and while that devolved into sputtering laughter and pushing, Edge chose to clean off the coffee table. He heard the clink of dishes behind him and sighed inwardly, walking to the kitchen with Antwan at his heels. 

“If you mention anything about work—” Edge began the moment the door swung shut.

Antwan set down his stack of plates and held his hands up in surrender. “I was only helping with the dishes, man,” he declared innocently, then lowered his voice, “How’s he doing, anyway?”

“That isn’t about the dishes,” Edge said warningly, and sighed. “As well as can be expected. It wasn’t simply a coffee shop to him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Antwan said with soft sympathy. “I’ve got internal keeping an eye on things, make sure her insurance doesn’t give her any trouble. Got another team scouting for new locations, I’m not sure rebuilding on the same place is viable and—"

“Tomorrow, please,” Edge interrupted with a sigh and Antwan fell silent. “I’ve been trying to leave work at work. Call Janice and see when I have a free hour, we can talk then.”

Antwan snorted but he nodded, walking back out to the living room, “Yeah, like you ever have free time—” He stopped so abruptly that Edge almost walked directly into him. His startled question died unspoken as he took in the scene in front of him.

Jeff was sound asleep, his head fallen back against the sofa behind him. Occasionally, a quiet snore escaped him, and a tiny rill of saliva was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Curled up next to him with his head on Jeff’s thigh was Stretch, also sound asleep. His knees were drawn up against his chest, making him look smaller than he was. They were a scene of trusting vulnerability and it made an urge rise in Edge to stand guard over them, to protect their sleep from any invaders, either external or from within. 

Bemused, Edge shook it away and started forward to wake them, only for Antwan to catch his arm. He watched as the human pulled out his phone and took several pictures from a variety of angles.

 _Send me those_ , Edge signed, and Antwan smirked. 

_Every one_ , he signed back, and then allowed Edge to gently shake them awake while he chose a movie.

“We’re watching 'Ghostbusters' next,” Antwan announced, already putting the disk into the player before anyone could protest. 

He needn’t have rushed, Jeff only yawned sleepily, “Awesome. Classic.”

Stretch hummed in agreement, still more asleep than not and he didn’t protest when Edge scooped him up, settling him into his lap and leaving the sofa clear for Antwan to claim a seat next to Jeff, tugging him closer. 

Both of them slept through most of the movie, but Edge didn’t mind, and he suspected Antwan didn’t either. Neither of them were watching it, anyway. 

-fin


	2. Red Tape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don’t have an easy relationship, but Edge is his brother, and Red will be there for him. In his own way.

* * *

Red hated fucking hospitals. All that white tile and beige walls, the smell of disinfectant layered over illness. It brought back some memories that he’d prefer to remain buried with the rest of the bodies, but hell, Red knew better than that. Sins had a way of creeping back up your spine when you least expected ‘em.

The Monster wing of the hospital was at least more private and Red didn’t have to do more than flash his ID to get in, and never mind that everyone in the Security division knew who he was. You checked ID or you got to deal with his boot up your ass, suck it up buttercup, and do your job.

Double-checking security was the only thing that kept him from shortcutting upstairs rather than taking the elevator, anyway.

The room was three down from the nurse’s station, where a nurse was typing away on a computer. She only glanced at Red, and gave him a short nod. The door was closed but Red didn’t knock, only opened it quietly and stepped into the darkened room.

In the bed, Stretch was curled up on his side, asleep. He looked drawn and pale, the normal flush of his magic dimmed, and there was a softly glowing IV bag suspended next to him, the tubes winding down beneath the blanket where Red knew it had been inserted directly into his soul. Kinda a relief that souls usually kept themselves beneath the sheets because even knowing it wasn’t hurting it, seeing a needle plugged into a soul was enough to give Red fucking nightmares, and he had more than enough of those without adding to the collection.

Sitting next to him in a chair was Edge and as far as Red was concerned, he looked fucking worse. There were darkened circles under his sockets and his t-shirt was rumpled like he’d slept in it. Which was exactly what Red knew he’d done. 

With Edge sitting they were of a height and Red walked over on silent feet to stand next to him. He tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels.

“hey bro,” Red said softly, “you should go home and get some rest,” 

“Did you need something, or did you only come to dispense useless advice?” Edge asked sharply, though his voice was pitched low. Didn’t matter, Stretch didn’t so much as stir. His breathing sounded a little clotted, whistling, but it was even and steady.

Red sighed and scrubbed a hand over his skull, bone scraping, “yeah, figured it was worth a shot. he’s gonna be okay, you know that.”

“Of course I do. The doctors have already spoken to me. It’s only an infection, this is just a precaution because of his HP,” he glanced at Red and his expression changed, as if only really noticing his brother for the first time. “For that matter, you shouldn’t be here.”

“doc said it ain’t contagious.

“Still—"

“eh, i’ll be fine. just like he will.” It wasn’t, quite, gentle, but it was as gentle as Red could manage. “bro, you’ve been here for two days.”

Edge reached out, lightly smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the blankets. Probably would have been trying to tuck the blankets in even more if stretch wasn’t already wrapped up like a burrito. Quietly, Edge said, “He hates hospitals.”

Yeah, Red knew that, too. So did Sans for that matter, the three of them musketeers of medical hatred, partly due to their fucking HP sending them all here from time to time and partly…well. All three of them had skeletons in their closet and he didn’t mean only when they were getting dressed in the morning. 

“I don’t want him to wake up and—” he choked a little on the words and that right there was a fucking neon sign as to how tired he was. “I don’t want him to be afraid.” 

He was fidgeting with something between his fingers, something shiny and Red squinted, trying to get a better look. Was that a coin…ah. Stretch’s wedding band. 

He sighed. Yeah, Edge wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

“okay, bro,” Red said quietly. He pulled another chair up next to his brother and sat down. It didn’t take long for him to settle in, drowsing, but he could hear everything, the quiet hum of the machinery, Stretch’s faint snores, and his brother, his breath catching ever so slightly, hardly more than a pause before it resumed, deliberately even and calm. 

Red pointedly didn’t open his eyes to look. Didn’t reach out to touch him, didn’t even say a word.

But he was there.

-finis-


	3. Playing Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge washes dishes. Stretch finds this a less than exciting option of entertainment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently told someone that I have less of a coherent plot that I follow with this series and more like a plot guideline while I do things like wake up in the morning and think to myself, ‘What if Edge was washing dishes’ and stories just go from there. So...uh...yeah. What if Edge was washing dishes.

* * *

“why do you have a dishwasher if you’re just going to wash them by hand?” Stretch asked reproachfully. He was sitting in the counter exactly as he wasn’t supposed to and also exactly as he had a dozen times before.

“You can’t put everything in the dishwasher, it can damage non-stick coatings and knives.” Edge set his the freshly rinsed pan into the dish drainer and ignored the way Stretch groaned and sagged back against the cupboards.

“this is boring. you’re boring.”

One of the biggest challenges Edge faced with Stretch was trying not to smile. It was an excellent exercise in control. Edge gave Stretch’s hip a little swat, forcing him to lean up so he could pull a towel out from under him. He picked up one of the dripping, freshly washed pans and started drying it. “You’re welcome to leave.”

Stretch ignored that, as Edge had known he would. “hurry up!” he whined. “i want to play with you!”

Edge stopped, the current pan still beading water. “You want to _play_ with me?

“yeah,” Stretch gave him a cheeky grin and a wink, “don’t you know you’re my favorite toy?”

He set the pan back in the dish drainer with deliberate care before stepping over to Stretch, watching as his eye lights widened in surprise. With a quick tug, Edge yanked him off the counter, pushing him stumbling forward to pin him gently face down on the island. Years of training made it easy to catch his flailing hands, holding them behind his back with one of his own. Stretch tried to squirm free and yelped when Edge only pushed him down more firmly, his pelvis pressed to Stretch’s backside.

“what are you…oooh.” His indignant protest faded into a groan as Edge slipped his free hand beneath his shirt, fingertips tweaking at the delicate cartilage around his spine. Breathless, Stretch said accusingly, “you said no sex in the kitchen!”

“Who said anything about sex?” Edge asked lightly. He skimmed his fingers lower, toying with sensitive bone until Stretch shivered, whimpering, “I’m only playing.”

He felt it the moment realization hit, Stretch stiffening briefly then sagging onto the cool marble countertop. Another quiver wracked him, his hips lifting as he rose on his toes and Edge eased back, still holding him down effortlessly. His fingertips skirted Stretch’s iliac crests, scraping softly.

“shit,” Stretch whined, his voice already cracking. “edge...ah…fuck…oh...you…ah!”

Edge leaned in closer, whispering with sincerity, “You might want to ration your swear words, you’re going to need them.”

“oh, oh…love…oh…please…I…fuck…”

He listened intently as Stretch’s babbles degenerated into incoherence, relishing it as he attempted to teach an important lesson on playing around. Stretch never learned it but that was all right. Toying with him was a reward of its own.

-finis-


	4. Under Control (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all about control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you have control issues like some people. Naughty things happens here. NSFW

* * *

It was no surprise to Edge that most problems he had with Stretch revolved around his mouth.

Then again, it depended on the given definition of the word problem.

Sprawled in the chair with his head lolling back, Edge was trying to remember how to simply breathe, something that Stretch was not helping with in the slightest.

“you’re always pinning me down and telling me what to do. what, can’t you handle it yourself for once?” Stretch asked, sitting back on his heels and looking up at him in exasperation.

Edge swallowed, trying to wrench back enough control to actually answer him. It didn’t help to see Stretch still kneeling between his legs, his fingers tapping against Edge’s femurs impatiently. His tongue traced the line of his teeth, showing a gleam of crimson magic and his voice held a hint of a rasp, lovely and enticing. 

“You have an unfair advantage,” Edge managed hoarsely, “I don’t have as talented a mouth as you do.”

Warm orange touched Stretch’s cheekbones, color blooming across pale bone. Dryly, he said, “trust me, you do fine with what you have. hands on the arms of the chair, please.”

Obediently, Edge did, gripping hard. 

“now leave them there this time.” He ducked his head again, and his mouth gorgeously wet and warm around Edge. That he could have handled, probably, but it was his tongue that undid Edge every time. Slick and sinuous around him, sliding against him with every bob of his head.

His hands must have moved again without his permission because Stretch stopped, shaking them away from his skull.

“no, no, no,” he scolded, but his eye lights gleamed with sharp satisfaction. “do i need to tie you down to get you to behave?”

 _Fuck_. Edge tried to conceal his reaction to that, couldn’t hide his hitched breath, couldn’t close his sockets quickly enough to keep Stretch from seeing his eye lights flare.

Not being able to see him didn’t help. Stretch’s voice was richly amused, “someone likes that idea, maybe next time. do you need a minute?”

His fingers lightly stroking the inside of Edge’s femurs was a distraction and not in a good way. It frayed through his resistance but asking him to stop would show weakness, and he couldn’t, not so quickly—

Almost, he almost had it under control when Stretch asked, mockingly, “what’s the matter, captain, can’t follow orders?”

It took him so off-guard, hearing that familiar husky voice calling him _captain_ that he nearly came right then, straining for control because Rus would not appreciate him doing it unexpectedly on his face. 

He clenched his fists, focused on the pain of his fingertips digging into bone. When he opened his eyes again, Stretch was watching him with his chin propped on one hand, his expression one of polite interest.

Gorgeous bastard.

“ready?” he asked, sweetly.

Edge dug his fingers into the arms of the chair and nodded.

“good. now hold still.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as Stretch’s mouth surrounded him again and tried to do as he was told.

-finis-


	5. Rubes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cool is better

* * *

From his bedroom window, Stretch placed a pinball on the winding metal track. "ready?"

"Go for it!" Jeff called up to him from the ground, waving two enthusiastic thumbs up.

He gave the pinball a gentle shove and down the track it went, traversing the spiral and zooming past a weather vane. The metal rooster on top of it spun around, its tail knocking into a level that activated a pulley. It sent a wee hot air balloon on a downward trajectory, the basket landing on rubber chicken.

The chicken let out a honking squawk, sending another pinball loose from its mouth to travel down another track. It shot past a lever that sent a match dragging against sandpaper before stopping beneath a string. The tiny flame burned quickly and the string broke, sending a cascade of army men into a bucket. It sank beneath the weight, pulling open the lid of a box.

From the depths of the box came a tinkling song and up rose a pair of skeleton puppets, jerking and dancing as the strings attached to their limbs were pulled. One of their flailing hands caught a switch and with a dramatic fanfare, the pitcher beneath them tipped and chicken feed fell from it into the trough. The eager chickens darted in, clucking and chirring as they scarfed up the feed.

Stretch had shortcutted down the ground a bare moment after setting down the first pinball and from behind Edge and Antwan, he exclaimed happily, “tada!”

There was silence, broken only by the scuffling of the chickens.

Edge looked up at the motley collection of junk pieced together over the coop. "What did you say this was called?”

"it's a rube goldberg machine," Stretch said brightly.

Jeff was grinning just as wide. “We designed it! Well, Stretch designed it, I provided creative input.”

Edge nodded slowly. “How long did it take you two to do this?”

Stretch frowned, considering. He and Jeff leaned in together, conferring in soft whispers. He straightened up and announced. “two weeks.”

“It takes two minutes for you to feed them," Edge said, carefully, like one might to a confused child. "You only need to put the feed into the trough."

“yes, but this way is cool!” His enthusiasm was deflating, his excitement melting into a glare. “cool is better!”

Edge shook his head. "I bow to your expertise in the area of cool.”

"you aren’t appreciating this properly!” Stretch announced, tossing his head in annoyance. “antwan! appreciate for us!”

Antwan only looked confused. “Don't you have to come down every morning anyway to collect eggs?”

“argh!” Stretch stomped away, “i’m calling papyrus, he knows fucking cool!”

"I'm sure it’s very cool!" Edge called after him, "Very, very cool!"

"don't patronize me!" The sliding door closed loudly behind him.

Jeff glared at both of them, arms crossed over his chest, “That wasn’t nice, he spent a lot of time setting this up.”

“It’s inefficient…” Edge started defensively.

“It was fun!” Jeff snapped. “Look up the definition of Rube Goldberg machine. Sometimes, efficiency isn’t better.”

He stalked away, leaving Edge and Antwan to stare at the device. The chickens were still scuffling through the feed with enthusiasm, paying no attention to the metal tracks or the skeletons still dancing to the song even as it trailed to a stop.

Edge sighed and turned to follow them into the house. He found Stretch in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and texted furiously.

“go away,” he muttered as Edge came in. “i’m busy telling twitter that my husband is an asshole.”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, sincerely. Carefully, he pulled Stretch into his arms. He didn’t resist, but stood stiffly against him. “I misunderstood the purpose of your machine.”

“it doesn’t really have a purpose,” Stretch grumbled. He leaned against Edge the tiniest bit.

“No, it did,” Edge corrected, “It made you happy. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate that.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Stretch’s temple. “It must have taken very precise calculations to time all that correctly, did you want to walk me through it?”

Stretch sighed, sagging into his arms. “you’re an asshole, but luckily, you’re good at apologies.”

“One should always cultivate necessary skills,” Edge agreed. “Come on.” He pulled Stretch out into the living room and came up short. On the sofa, Jeff and Antwan were kissing, a little too enthusiastically for being on someone else’s sofa.

“looks like antwan apologizes better than you,” Stretch murmured.

“Lawyers are excellent at arguing,” Edge muttered back, then louder, “All right, enough. Jeff and Stretch are going to walk us through their Rudy Goldberg machine.”

“Rube Goldberg,” came out in a chorus and Edge flapped an impatient hand.

“Yes, yes,” he sighed. “Allow me to appreciate how cool it is.” Stretch gave him an enthusiastic hug and darted back outside, Edge at his heels.

“okay, first we had to come up with a collection of stuff,” Stretch began, bouncing on his toes, “half of the challenge is making do with what you can find—"

Edge nodded along, watching him, and if he didn’t quite understand the inefficiency of the contraption, he could appreciate the results. Fed chickens and a delighted Stretch. That was worth the effort.

-finis-


	6. Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow wasn’t always bad. Like most things, it’s all about location, location, location.

* * *

Edge noticed the first snowflakes falling when he glanced through the kitchen window. Fluffy and fat, the kind of snow that fell on the surface and begged for children to play, to throw snowballs and roll snowmen, the ordinary kind that never spoke. 

It tended to be an enticement for others as well, and Edge dried his hands and went in search of his other. He wasn’t difficult to find, a peek out the glass insert in the door showed Stretch sitting on the porch, a thin trail of cigarette smoke rising. No jacket was in sight or a hat, and Edge shook his head, torn between amusement and exasperation.

He grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and went after him.

Stretch glanced up as he opened the door. There was already a dusting of snowflakes on his shoulders, vivid against the bright orange of his hoodie. “hey, babe.”

“I was cold just looking at you.” He settled down to sit behind him, pulling the blanket around his own shoulders and draping it around them both.

Stretch only chuckled. “i’m fine.”

“Fine out here in the cold in your stocking feet,” Edge said disapprovingly. “You should at least be wearing slippers.”

“eh, they were upstairs,” he shrugged.

“You can literally teleport.”

“watch it or i’ll do it right now and you can spend a little time playing upchuck jones.” But Stretch leaned back against Edge, letting him hold his slight weight. “i’m fine, momma bear.”

“Don’t call me that, you brat.”

“you’d prefer daddy?”

Edge could hear the smirk in his voice and sighed. “You’re infuriating.”

“you love it.”

He did, there was no point in denying it. “Call it a character flaw.”

“your best one.” Stretch drew up his legs and allowed Edge to tuck the blanket around them. He held out a hand, white flakes settling on it, paler than the ivory of his bones. “i can never decide if i like snow or not. it reminds me of home.” He shook the snow from his hand, tucking it back into the blanket folds. “it wasn’t all bad.”

“It wasn’t,” Edge agreed. He had fleeting memories of happiness, contentment, safety. He suspected that if he missed Snowdin at all, any version on it, it was the idea of home more than the actual place.

The snow was falling heavier and getting difficult to see through, more like the snowfall they did see in Snowdin. Edge wondered if it was truth or only his memories coloring his recollection of snow in his own world. In his mind’s eye, the snow had been grayer, fouler, like everything in Underfell. 

The surface was far from perfect, but it was better, in a number of ways. One of which was currently in his arms.

Stretch leaned forward, lighting another cigarette, and Edge let him take one breath off it before plucking it away. “Give me that.”

“hey!”

Edge ignored his protest and drew in a breath of smoke, coughing it back out. “I want to kiss you. Maybe it’ll be better if we both taste like smoke.”

“ha ha.” Stretch snagged it back, “you don’t need to be starting my bad habits.”

Edge nuzzled his cervical vertebra, “You’re the only bad habit I need.”

Stretch snorted out smoke, squirming away from the ticklish touch, “you’re in a mood, aren’t you.”

“Hmm,” Edge hummed, noncommittally. With his fingertips, he turned Stretch’s head enough to steal the promised kiss, softly at first, then a little harder, until Stretch moaned softly. Then he drew back, tucking his chilling face into the shoulder of Stretch’s sweatshirt.

Stretch sighed, a little shakily, and took a puff off his cigarette. “let me finish this and we can go in.”

“There’s no rush,” Edge murmured. He slid his hands down and found Stretch’s feet, the bones chilly through the thin layer of his socks. He closed his hands around them, trying to offer what warmth he could. Snowflakes were cold against his skull, clouding the blanket with puffs of pure whiteness. Pure.

It was all right. They could stay out a little longer. 

 

-finis


	7. Tangled Webs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Along came a spider...

* * *

“There’s a spider in the bathroom.”

Stretch looked up from the schematic he was drawing, pretty fucking poorly if he was to be honest. Math, he had down, but he couldn’t draw a straight line to save his damn life, even with a ruler. That’s why Sans usually did this shit, he should’ve asked him to stop by…he pushed his wandering thoughts back into focus before they could fall too far out of the marble sack, because Edge was standing next to him looking weirdly agitated. 

Spider. Right.

“yeah…?” Stretch drew out the question in confusion. There was a spider in the bathroom, check, and Edge was informing him of this why? So he could be aware of their miniature eight-legged paparazzi and not show any leg for the press?

Edge started to speak, visibly rethought it, tried again and hesitated. Stretch could only watch in bewilderment, what the fuck—

Finally, he ground out, “I’d appreciate if you’d deal with it.”

“deal with it,” Stretch repeated slowly. He was almost positive he’d heard that correctly, it was the fact that it didn’t make any damn sense he was struggling with. ”deal with the spider?”

“Yes, deal with the spider,” Edge snapped and okay, someone was on edge (heh) today. Edge sort of had a permanent aura of grump but usually it was fucking adorable. This wasn’t the same, this version of his grump was 2.0, and Stretch couldn’t say he liked the update. 

Edge wanted him to…deal with the spider. Like, what, like a mafia hit? Take it out with the tommy gun, blam blam blam? Yeah, okay, this was his five minutes of weird for the day. It was like he’d gotten knocked sideways into another alternate dimension and mirror-verse Edge was looking to him for defense.

It took way too long to filter through but when it did, it was like a lightning bolt.

Edge was afraid of spiders. Edge, his badass motorcycley _Underfell_ husband was afraid of spiders, holy sweet baby angels, Edge was asking for him to ‘deal with it’ because he was afraid of wee wiggly little spiders climbing up the waterspouts and stealing his curds and whey.

Oh, fuck, this was like Gyftmas come early, this was _begging_ for pranks, this was pleading for a lifetime supply of plastic spiders on April 1st, tucked into any place that wouldn’t hold still, pockets and shoes and cereal boxes, this was a treasure trove, this was…

…all his fleeting, gleeful thoughts came to a dead screeching halt as he got a good look at Edge. His eye lights were focused away from Stretch, his expression entirely too close to shame for Stretch’s tastes and still, Edge trusted him enough to ask for help rather than forcing himself to do it.

“sure, babe,” Stretch told him softly. “i got this. 

He took a minute to get a jar from the kitchen, and then rethought it and went back for a bag, too, so that Edge didn’t have to see it, even in a captured state. Almost, he told Edge to stay in the living room, had to bite it back because there was no way he could say that without adding some shit about coming after him if he wasn’t back in five minutes. 

No amount of humor was going to make Edge feel better about this and acting like it was a joke was going to hurt a lot more than a little bruised pride. He knew his fella a little too well for that. 

To be fair, the spider was no mere daddy long legs; it was big enough that Stretch wondered if a little 23 and Me testing would show some Monster ancestry there. At least the size made it hard for the thing to scuttle off. He took a picture for posterity and Twitter before carefully setting the jar into the paper bag. 

Edge was still sitting on the sofa when he came down. That hint of shame was lingering but relief was consuming it, as well as a hopeful glance at the bag. 

Stretch jerked his head towards the door. “i’m gonna run this guy over to muffet’s real quick, okay?” She’d appreciate a new guest. 

He nodded stiffly, “Thank you.”

“anytime, babe,” he said, even as he resolutely abandoned his ideas of any pranks about this. Stretch liked to think he knew funny and the idea of shoving a phobia into Edge’s face was not it. 

Whatever, it was fine. Whoopee cushions were a gift that kept on giving.

-finis-


	8. Thankful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone should have something to be thankful for.

* * *

It was almost time to leave, which meant Edge was ready and had been for an hour, and his husband was upstairs frantically finishing up. That was fine; he’d told Stretch they’d need to leave a half an hour before now, so he should be nearly ready. 

Edge had no particular fondness for Thanksgiving past a simple opportunity to share a meal with his unusual little extended family. Papyrus, on the other hand, was thrilled by holidays and would have hosted all of them if allowed. As it was, he and Edge had negotiated fiercely over what side dishes he’d be allowed to bring.

The question of appetizers hadn’t arisen, and Edge decided it was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission as far as those were concerned.

There was a pop of teleportation behind him and Edge turned around to find Stretch frowning down at a tie as if it had personally offended him. Considered the tangle it was in, Edge wouldn’t have blamed it if it had.

“help?” Stretch asked pleadingly.

Edge brushed his hands away and smoothed the silk. “How many times have I shown you this?”

“’bout a hundred,” Stretch grinned easily.

“Let’s make it a hundred and one, then.” He carefully looped it, the silk hissing as he drew it into a knot. “There.”

He dusted off Stretch’s shoulders and smoothed his lapels. As per usual, he’d raided Edge’s side of the closet for something a little dressier and had discovered the burnt orange shirt he’d deliberately bought for just such an occasion. Stretch wouldn’t wear it if it was on his side, but a little minor larceny always seemed to enhance the appeal.

“do i look okay?” Not that he really needed to dress up, but Papyrus and Blue would appreciate the effort. Not to mention how much Edge appreciated it.

“You do,” Edge assured him. The tie would last two hours, at the most, the jacket less than that. By the end of the night, his shirt would be untucked, the sleeves rolled up, and at least two buttons undone. That look had its appeal as well. “I love you in my clothes.”

“i know,” Stretch said cheekily. He caught Edge’s hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. “so, um, i know it’s not exactly up with miss manners, but you think papyrus would mind if we brought an unexpected guest?”

Edge frowned. “Like who?”

“well, andy…

“Jeff.”

“…andy mentioned that he was home today and—”

“He’d not with Antwan?” Edge interrupted. “I thought they flew out yesterday.”

Stretch shook his head. “what i’m getting is the tickets were out of andy’s price range, but he wouldn’t let antwan buy it for him. it’s a thing, i’m not about to step into that cow pie of argument, but i was thinking he shouldn’t have to spend the day alone.”

Edge abruptly let him go and went to the kitchen. “Let’s go, let me grab those food containers.”

Stretch ignored that, following him. “i mean, i could text papyrus right now—”

“Don’t bother. I’m dropping you off and then I’m going to get Andy…damn it, Jeff!”

“you’ll all come around to my way of thinking soon enough,” Stretch said serenely. But his smile was soft as he helped gather up containers.

“Don’t forget your pie.” It was his third attempt at baking and he’d managed with minor supervision.

“it’s burnt.”

“The crust is very slightly overbrown, it is not burnt, and even if it was, no one eats pie for the crust. Now grab it and get your beautiful ass in the car.”

“i don’t have an ass, and neither do you,” Stretch pointed out, but he did as he was told.

Edge followed him with containers of his own, already forming a battle strategy. Jeff would be joining them, there was no question of that. He wasn’t about to take any sass from someone who otherwise would probably be eating mac and cheese alone.

He was barely in the driver’s seat when Stretch leaned in and stole a kiss.

“thank you,” he said simply.

“You don’t have to thank me for common decency.”

“there’s nothing common about you, love. which reminds me, papyrus wanted all of us to say what we’re thankful for at dinner,” Stretch rolled his eye lights and grinned. “i’m struggling with it.”

“Having trouble thinking of something to be thankful for?” Edge asked archly.

Stretch gasped in outrage, “no! i’m having a hard time choosing just one.” He ticked each one off on his fingers. “i have a new human best friend who is probably joining us for dinner, i’m married to the most wonderful monster in new new home…”

“I think you’ll find I’m the one who should be thankful for that.”

“charmer,” Stretch murmured then louder. “and i have chickens!”

“Everyone should be thankful for the chickens, at the very least for the deviled eggs.”

“see?” Stretch let out a woeful sigh, “it’s too hard to pick. guess i’ll have to choose them all.”

“Talk quickly or Red will have half the food gone before anyone else starts,” Edge said dryly.

Before long they were pulling into the driveway of Papyrus and Sans’s home. Through the front window, he could see the others, including Blue and his own brother, drink glasses in hand and he had no doubt there was laughter in the air, even if he wouldn’t have appreciated the jokes.

He helped load Stretch’s arms with food containers and he shortcutted out, returning quickly for the rest.

“don’t take too long,” Stretch murmured and stole a last kiss. Edge deepened it, knowing that various other skeletons would be rolling their eye lights inside. May as well give them something to be truly disgusted by. He drew away reluctantly, satisfied with the hazy softness of Stretch’s eye lights.

“I won’t,” he promised. He got back in the car and before he closed the door, he called. “Don’t let Pap give you a hard time about the appetizers!”

“wait, what?”

Edge was already backing down the driveway, choosing and discarding various arguments to get Jeff in his car. If nothing else, simply refusing to leave without Jeff would allow guilt to mount until he conceded if only so Edge didn’t miss dinner.

He turned on the radio, humming along, already anticipating an argument, an excellent dinner, and time with people that had come to be his own, more than he’d ever dreamed of having.

That, he thought, was something to be thankful for.

 

-finis-


	9. Having a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even have a good summary. I really needed a soft little moment with these boys today, so here it is.

* * *

In the brief moment before sleeping and waking, Edge didn’t know where he was, but he knew he was safe. Surrounded by warmth and the sweet scent of magic that he knew as well as his own.

Instead of jerking awake, an attack at the ready until he gained his bearings, it allowed him to open his sockets drowsily and take in his surroundings.

His own sofa was beneath him, a soft blanket tucked around him, and under his cheekbone were track pants.

Ah.

He’d fallen asleep somehow in Stretch’s lap, which at the very least was a tease-worthy event. Worse, there was a visible patch of dampness above the knee of Stretch’s pants which meant not only had he fallen asleep, he’d disgraced himself by drooling while he did it. That would cost at least a couple of puns on its own, the likelihood that he was about to be treated to practically an entire stand-up routine was at critical levels.

Mentally, Edge braced himself and rolled onto his back to accept his fate.

Only to find Stretch looking down at him with nothing but softness.

“you never nap during the day, you must’ve been really tired,” he said sympathetically. He smoothed the blanket over Edge’s chest with gentle fingers.

“The past few weeks have been…eventful,” Edge admitted.

“say it again,” Stretch sighed. His smile was a little sad and Edge almost wished he could call those words back, no matter how true they were. Before he could add to it, Stretch’s mouth tipped up into an amused smirk, “for one, you ended up marrying me.”

“That was not an event, that was a joy,” Edge told him promptly and Stretch let out a delighted laugh.

“now, see, i knew you were going to say something like that,” Stretch strained to lean down enough to steal a kiss, only able to reach when Edge lifted his head an inch. “if i ever need a boost, all i have to do is make one little disparaging remark and there you are, like a fairy godmother sprinkling morale on my glass slippers.”

“You would trip and break your neck with one step,” Edge said dryly. “You can barely walk in sneakers.”

“and yet, you keep me humble,” Stretch said wryly. But at least now his smile held nothing but contentment. He traced a fingertip over Edge’s cheekbone, just beneath his sockets where he suspected dark circles were waiting. “do you want to sleep a little more?”

“No,” he said honestly, but he tipped his head further into Stretch’s lap. “But I’d like to stay here.”

“i think i can manage that.” He picked up the TV remote and turned up whatever it was he was watching, likely some trashy old movie with horrible special effects. If that was the price to keep this warm moment, Edge was more than willing to pay.

Edge rolled to lay on his side, cupping his hand around Stretch’s knee simply to touch him a little more, uncaring of the damp patch. He didn’t watch the movie, hardly a loss, and only let his sockets drift half-shut, basking in the warmth and his husband’s sweet scent, and the gentle hand that settled on his skull.

-fin


	10. Discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is precisely why Stretch never goes to the Embassy.

* * *

“knock knock.”

Edge glanced up as his office door opened and Stretch stepped inside. “You’re out and about early today, it’s not even lunchtime.”

The last time he’d seen Stretch this morning was right after his run. Or at least he’d seen the lump beneath the blanket that he’d assumed was Stretch, curled up and buried in warmth. His morning kiss had been bypassed by the puzzle the blankets presented because even Edge couldn’t figure out how to unwrap him without waking him.

“haha,” Stretch said dryly but his grin was warm. He jerked his head towards the outer office. “where’s your guard dog?”

“Janice? She’s probably doing work and you should be nicer, she likes you.”

“of course she does, everyone likes me,” Stretch said loftily. He held up a bag by the strap with two fingers. “when I went downstairs this morning, i found this on the counter. thought you might like it.”

Ah. In his rush out the door, he’d forgotten his lunch. “I didn’t even notice I left it. Did you bring something for yourself?”

“nah, i can’t stay,” Stretch shrugged, setting the bag on the corner of the desk. “i have something brewing in the lab.”

“So you came all the way down here just to give it to me? I could have ordered out,” Edge pointed out.

All Stretch offered was another shrug. “you wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much.”

It was true and the simple fact that Stretch not only knew that, but he was willing to bring him his homemade lunch to prevent it made warmth settle in Edge’s soul. He curled a finger in a ‘come hither’ gesture and Stretch did, warily. Deservedly so, Edge pulled him into his lap as soon as he was within reach.

“i can’t stay,” Stretch warned but he leaned into Edge, who was nuzzling against his cheekbone.

“Two minutes?” he coaxed, trying to steal a kiss, only to have Stretch twist stubbornly away. “I missed you.”

“you were asleep with me three hours ago,” Stretch was less convincing when he allowed himself to be persuaded into a soft kiss. “two minutes.”

In between kisses, Edge rubbed a thumb gently over Stretch’s fingers, his gloves rasping softly over the bone. He was wearing his silicon ring, a testament to the fact he’d already been in the lab this morning. It was getting a little worn already since Stretch tended to fidget with it whenever he wore it. Edge would have to replace it soon; easily done, he had a box of them stashed away that he’d ordered in a variety of colors. He’d do it now but Stretch could be very attached to the strangest things, hoodies and shoes for example. Better to wait until it verged on embarrassingly destroyed before he offered.

He caught Stretch’s mouth in a last kiss at the precise moment that Janice walked in. “I brought you those reports…oh!

Edge actually felt a brief wave of disorientation from the aborted shortcut as Stretch scrambled off his lap. His entire face was suffused with bright orange magic, nearly glowing.

Janice was probably blushing beneath her fur, an embarrassed hand over her mouth, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Edge said smoothly, holding out a hand. “Our fault entirely. I do need those reports.”

“i was just leaving anyway!” Stretch blurted and started to scramble around the desk. Only to discover the fingers that Edge had discreetly hooked into the back pocket of his jeans, keeping him still. From the play of emotions across his face, he was trying to decide between struggling for escape or staying still. Not that Edge was going to allow him that choice.

Not yet.

Still flustered, Janice came forward to hand him the reports and the moment she was close, Edge subtly gave Stretch a tweak on his pelvis. As expected, he tried, and failed, to twitch away, a tiny squeak escaping, and hopefully Janice didn’t see the black look he sent Edge’s way. Or if she did, she wouldn’t ask why. 

Gossip was going to be flying in minutes, so Edge may as well enjoy the prelude.

“Thank you,” he told her politely and Janice nodded so quickly her neck might have been on ball bearings, quickly backing out the door and probably lunging for her phone.

He met Stretch’s dark glare with a bland look of his own, silently enjoying his brilliant blush. It was so bright his magic was rivaling Edge’s.

“you…!” he sputtered, struggling as Edge caught the front of his sweatshirt and hauled him down for a kiss. He winced as Stretch bit the tip of his tongue, not hard enough to draw magic but certainly enough to express his displeasure. Equal parts amused and disgruntled, Edge let him go and Stretch stumbled back.

Edge propped his chin on his hand. “I’m not sure why you’re so embarrassed. Two weeks ago, she saw you in a sheet.”

“you would bring that up!” Stretch huffed irritably. “she didn’t see me in your lap in a sheet!”

“She would have if I hadn’t locked the door,” Edge murmured, then added, louder, “Besides, she likes to see that we’re happy and I’m not about to pose for a picture for Instagram, while you’ve learned an important lesson in locking the door.” 

Whatever fractional soothing of his temper he’d started to earn was instantly lost with that little jibe. Stretch lifted his chin in defiance and his glare heated again. Enticingly.

“i’d be careful if i were you, about what pictures might end up on instagram,” Stretch warned, and he stormed out the door without another word. Edge immediately resigned himself to something embarrassing that would be whispered about soon, his face discreetly concealed but obviously him to any Monster who saw it.

It was fair price if Stretch could keep his temper warm until Edge was home to enjoy it. With that hope before him, Edge opened the reports Janice had brought, pausing occasionally to remember the warmth of Stretch’s lovely blush.

Something to get him through the day.

-finis-


	11. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never answer middle of the night questions.

* * *

Before Stretch, the only person that Edge had slept with was his own brother, and euphemisms aside, he had been more than a little unfamiliar with sleeping next to another person.

It hadn’t been as difficult to adjust as he’d feared. So long as Stretch was with him as he fell asleep, Edge’s subconscious had no difficulty in assessing him as unthreatening, and he was able to have his lover, his husband, curled up against him throughout the night. 

Stretch didn’t share his concerns or his issues. Point of fact, usually Stretch had no problem sleeping anywhere and everywhere.

But then there were nights—

“do you think ghosts exist?”

Edge’s journey into the sweet depths of sleep came to a screeching halt, hauling him back into wakefulness. He kept his sockets closed— the reflection from his eye lights would be a dead giveaway— and debated his options. On one hand, if he kept quiet, Stretch would probably assume he was asleep and wouldn’t ask again, and soon, his pretense would become reality. On the other hand…what the hell kind of question was that?

In the end, he couldn’t help it and gave in, “You know at least two ghosts personally.”

Stretch shifted to sit up, a clear sign that Edge had chosen poorly. “not ghost ghosts! like human ghosts back from the dead!”

“You have literally seen human souls existing after the death of the human.”

From Stretch’s impatient sigh, he wasn’t getting the answers he was hoping for. Edge knew the feeling.

“no, no, no, i mean like, ghosts! in haunted houses and amityville horror and shit. ghosts!”

Edge decided to try a different tact. “Why are you thinking about this?”

“because i was watching a show on paranormal investigation,” Stretch shifted until he could peer down at Edge, his eye lights glowing through the darkness. “why is it that ghosts only haunt old houses and decrepit subway stations and hotels, stuff like that?”

“I thought we were still debating their existence?”

Stretch went on as if he hadn’t heard him. “why aren’t there haunted apartments? trailer parks? maybe there are, and they just don’t get the exposure, that’s sort of classism, isn’t it? trailer park ghosts deserve to have their stories told too, i should write to the—mmmph!”

It was easy enough to push Stretch back down into the blankets and cover his mouth with his own. Better to offer him something as a distraction than to allow this line of thinking to grow into a thesis argument. A few kisses and Stretch was moaning beneath him, quivering and lovely, all thoughts of ghosts or even ‘ghost ghosts’ sent back to the afterlife where they belonged. 

Besides, if Edge wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep, this was an excellent second option.

-fin


End file.
